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    Summary

    General Arc being jealous of someone eyeing prince Arm.

    “The general is cross with me?” Arm questioned, tilting his head guilelessly.

    “That would simply be out of line for an ordinary general such as I, my prince,” Arc answered with a bow, previous hard feelings returning to him speck by speck.

    Pouting darlingly, Arm pushed him back toward the divan, a hand pressing onto Arc’s bare chest. “But I am your prince.”

    “As you are everyone else’s,” Arc said, his voice carrying no bite beyond the underlying bitterness, making the prince’s pout even more evident, if that was possible.

    “But only you can kiss me,” the prince mumbled, dejected, pushing the general to sit on the edge of the divan and making himself comfortable on his lap.

    Series
    Language:
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